


Constellations

by xxwrote_my_way_outxx



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gay, Hamilton - Freeform, Implied Smut, Lams - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxwrote_my_way_outxx/pseuds/xxwrote_my_way_outxx
Summary: Each night when his eyes would wander towards each dot of illumination in the sky, he began to wonder if he could find each and every constellation on the map that was his lover’s flesh, each freckle like a sun that if it were to grow cold, his world would become dark. John was his universe.





	Constellations

The way that the stars glistened in the sky each night brought his eyes back to the face that always laid loyally beside him each night. Each night when his eyes would wander towards each dot of illumination in the sky, he began to wonder if he could find each and every constellation on the map that was his lover’s flesh, each freckle like a sun that if it were to grow cold, his world would become dark.

He searched for each assemblage as if it would bring him closer to god, where most believed that he had strayed from due to his love for the man. He longed for them, doting each part of him that his eyes could consume and his hands could devour. His hands would drink the warmth from his thighs as if they were an oasis and he was in drought. His lips would dust against the canvas that was his skin, painting it with the colors of his affection, trying to taste each decadent flavor: his sweetness and his sweat. He prayed his tied hands that he would find the pattern of the freckles. They never made any clear shape, though they always guided him back home, where they were unified in the most blissful way humanly capable.

And each time when his aficionada would slumber by his chest in the sweetest way he had ever witnessed, instead of feverish lips he swiped his gentle thumb against his bottom lip, tracing the crevices that he had claimed as his own. He would breathe in the sweet musk of his mussed hair and get high off of the scent of their love. He would slide himself out from his lover’s deepest chambers, relinquishing himself of what he believed would be where his secrets would lie, but they did not. For no matter how hard he tried, he could never find the path to his salvation.

And in the daylight when the sun would pour in through the window and the stars were seen no longer, he would look for the clouds in his hair, as it would wisp in the most bounteous of curls, and would seek the suns in his eyes, as they would smolder in a rich caramel color in certain light. The way that his previously bruised lips from the night before would curl up into bow of sweetness at the sight of the most simple of things, such as poppies or birds, caused his heart to tremor with love. The delicate caress of his lover’s spindle-like fingers against the canvases he painted different skins onto reminded him of the way that the breeze would sweep away the debris of the earth. Sunlight poured in the form of sincerity from the speckled man, kindness drowning all that approached him. He observed and experienced the radiation that was the love of his boyfriend daily.

And on the days that it rained, Alexander could feel in the way that the other somberly wobbled down the hall that he was a swaying tree, nearly tumbling under the waves of wind that violently turned in the presence of downpour. The way that the tears streamed down his freckled cheeks reminded him of the way that the drops of water cleaned the windows. However, the rain could never clear the stars away, only taking away from their beauty for a short amount of time. The way that he would bawl was like the rumbles of thunder than shook him to the core, and the pleas of help or forgiveness that he never understood put fear in his heart like lightening. Though the manner that he would gather himself and express his willpower reminded him of the resilience of a rainbow, demonstrating the sovereignty of life versus the qualms that the dark skies delivered.

On winter evenings, when the wind was chill, Alexander could feel the coldness of his demeanor after a dispute. The frigidity of his body was like the quaking, dead leaves that still lingered on the trees outside. The way the tears stopped running and simply caused him to choke reminded him of the times when the wintry weather would freeze one’s will. The demeanor in he sniffled was as a child with a cold, overwhelmed with clogged thoughts and the desire for comfort.

And in the autumn he smelled of cinnamon spices that he would reminisce on come wintertime. His brown eyes would blend in with the warmth of acorns and chestnuts. His freckles and brown hair would contrast with the lovely oranges, yellows, and reds that would paint the earth in the ways that he would paint his next portrait in the evening, splattering the colors of the leaves on his face, making it hard to see the galaxies on his face, only the joy and love of a man.

And as he was laying in bed like each aching night before, Alexander found himself realizing something.

One can feel the winds in the seasons, the rain on their skin, the fear from the storm and the love from the sun. Anyone could observe the stars for what they were though could not experience them. One also lived on earth, but one could not experience it.

John was his universe. His body was his earth, his freckles were his stars. His eyes held the secrets of the skies and his mouth fought with the temper of every storm that could be imagined. His fingernails raked the skin on his back like the cold chill of a December morning, and his body shook beneath him like the billowing willows in the frosty wind. His smile was the warmth of the sun that woke him up every morning and made him feel fulfilled. Their love was like a hurricane which devoured all of his emotions and ate his being, carrying him into a new horizon which gave him a plethora of fortune.

The constellations of John weren’t written in his body, but was instead written in the story that was his life, which Alexander found himself blessed to be a part of.


End file.
